


You'll trust me eventually.

by illicio



Category: Nabari no Ou
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 08:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1976766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illicio/pseuds/illicio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, it's an interesting way to ask for favours, I guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll trust me eventually.

 

 

 

 

"I'm serious, Raikou!"

        Situations spontaneously come up and stuff falls into your lap all the time that makes you late for your deadlines or puts you far behind, but Yukimi is pretty sure that what is happening to him right now doesn't happen to everyone else. He goes to stand from his chair, but Raikou's sly, well-applied weight sinks him back down.

        He smiles a little.

        "I said no!" Yukimi fusses, gripping one of the wayward wrists that have already stripped him of his shirt.

        "Oh..." The other hand moves, unrelenting despite its captured partner in crime. His fingers undo the buckle, and the leather belt slides free.

        "Oi, stop it! I know you -- you'll fuckin' bite me!"

        When the belt hits the ground, Yukimi seizes the other hand. He holds them up, as if he's trying to arrest him -- only it was hard to make any kind of arrest on someone when you were the one holding their hands up.

        Raikou's persistent smile made him feel uneasy.

        When he leaned in and acted as if he was going to do the rest with his teeth, Yukimi's eyes widened and he dropped his hands out of reflex, trying to scoot back into a chair that only moved back a few steps and didn't deter Raikou at all in his pursuit.

        Yukimi decides to tell himself this is nothing Raikou would seriously pursue. Just something he's doing to get to him. He'll just stare and see how far along it goes, because this isn't the kind of thing--

        When the pants unzip, his brows furrow and he tells himself this is either a sick joke or a sick fantasy -- and he opts toward the side of joke, because this definitely wasn't what one of his fantasies looked like.

        Raikou feels the muscles in his legs tense when he bows his head over his lap, bringing himself nearer. From a very dangerous place, he tilts his head and looks up, still wearing his eerie smile. "Don't you trust me?"

        Yukimi stares down like a man who has suffered long, hard years of war and has come back grizzled and squinting at the sun, having seen and experienced horrible things while knowing the worst is yet to come. With a pause that isn't hesitation more than deciding what the proper admission of denial is, he spits, "Hell no!"

        There is a mouth pressing in the wrong place against fabric that's much too thin for him to ignore. Yukimi's back tenses and Raikou says, "You will."

        He manages to stay calm, because it's remarkably easy to stay calm when all you can think about is the fact one wrong move could cost you your favourite body part. "No, I won't!"

        Raikou doesn't answer. He knows a better way to win: he blows warm air against the fabric and Yukimi closes his eyes, mouth tight and brows drawn together, waiting for something that doesn't happen.

        He feels the exposure to cool air and fights the urge to look, preferring to think the worst just in case that might keep everything from getting even more awkward. At least, if it never got up, he'd never have to worry about this again.

        It never works the way you want it to work: he lost the battle with primal nature when he felt a warm wetness enclose the tip of the head he began to think with.

        He exhales a, "Pfff..." and presses his palms against Raikou's cheeks, cupping them gently. He opens his eyes and looks down.

        No matter how effeminate Raikou looks, it isn't his area of expertise. It doesn't take long to figure out he probably hasn't done it before to anyone else -- who'd actually let him if they knew him? -- and Yukimi decides to help: he rubs one of Raikou's cheeks with his thumb and the other hand drifts down to take Raikou's by the wrist.

        Raikou hums a curious noise but doesn't move. Against all better instinct that told him to be quiet and stay quiet, Yukimi's breath shudders and he exhales, "Ah-"

        His interest piqued.

        Yukimi wasn't the type of person who made a lot of noise unless he was complaining uselessly about nothing important.

        Gently, Yukimi moves his hand, closing Raikou's fingers around himself, as if in polite suggestion.

        The learning curve is high: it has never taken Raikou long to get a point when it helps him reach his goal.

        There is a gruff, low, "Nnh," and if there had been a doubt about consent before, there should have been none now.

        The palm against Raikou's face makes gentle dents against his cheek.

        Raikou pauses, tilting his chin to look as far up Yukimi's body as he could, tongue dragging over the smooth skin beneath it in a lazy loll.

        Yukimi's hips move and he shifts, exhaling a short, sudden sigh while he looks down at Raikou, his low-lidded expression the furthest thing from trust -- but even so, his thumb strokes the skin of the cheek, silent but affectionate.

        Raikou notes his chest is moving quicker with his breathing. He finds the gesture strange -- too kind, too gentle -- and he supposes Yukimi is silent in the other situations because he is the one who has the most control and too busy doing other things, like taking his frustration out during sex on people who don't deserve it -- like he's going through a mental list, checking off items that made him frustrated earlier that week or that day to recycle, rehash, and reignite the irritation.

        Raikou had suffered under that bruising, rough tough several times.

        He squeezes his hand harder and Yukimi leans back, moaning a low, quiet sound Raikou hadn't heard from him before. He closes his eyes when he feels the palm on his face move, delicately brushing the hair out away in a gesture more for effect than for functionality.

        What a strange, powerful position. No wonder Yukimi hadn't wanted him there until it actually happened.

        He leaned his head away and pursed his mouth in a kiss, pressing it against the skin that had just been within his mouth.

        Yukimi's whole body had gone tense, shivering while the hips shifted and he murmured, "Ah, fuck... ah, fuck," because that was the hottest thing he had seen in a long time and that was the kind of thing that came back to haunt you at inopportune moments when you were with your future wife -- the kind of thing that you couldn't forget.

        Raikou covered him with his mouth again and pushed his head down.

        Yukimi stops him over halfway down, urging in a harsh but gentle voice, "Idiot, don't force it." That trick wasn't for everyone and it was overrated anyway.

        Surprised by the retaliation, Raikou pushed further and soon understood what he meant. The tickle in his throat, he supposes, is not much different from the time Raimei stuffed an entire banana in his mouth when they were children. In fact, it didn't really feel much different, now that he thought about it. Harder, he supposed, but not different-

        Blissfully unaware Raikou was thinking about his kid sister, bananas, and an old family memory when neither of them were above the age of nine in the most inappropriate moment to be thinking about family there ever was, he stared in Raikou in mute shock, gathering another memory and mental image that wasn't going to leave him for the rest of his unnatural life.

        Raikou pulls away slowly, conscious not to use teeth, because there was something else he wanted to try before it was over--

        His mouth closes firmly and the suction is slow and hard.

        The body beneath him shifts again, hips desperate to buck, body tense with a malicious desire to throw him down and finish it.

        But he didn't. He waited for the pace to pick up and instead his voice degenerated into deep, guttural noises -- the hand sinking, seeking Raikou's hair and stroking through it rough but almost loving. The other hand digs against the seat of his chair, gripping tightly while he tilts his head back and breathes heavily.

        Raikou feels the muscles twitch inside his mouth and when he hears a low, "Raikou-" he knows if he keeps going, it will be over.

        He parts his lips and leaves open, loose kisses against the shaft. Softly, he says, "I've been thinking lately."

        The words aren't lost on Yukimi, who feels them vibrating against him and settling offensively in his ear. In disbelief, he gasps, "...what?!"

        "I need new pots and pans."

        "How... how... you... oi!"

        "I've been thinking you should get them for me."

        "Ah... you fucker, you fuck... you... no! I'm not-"

        "Mmm?" Raikou's mouth left him completely. "I didn't hear you." The voice was clear and pristine.

        "I said... I said no! Ah... fuck, this is uncomfortable-"

        Because he cared nothing for dignity, Yukimi moved his hands and went to finish it himself -- or he would have, if Raikou hadn't caught them and laced their fingers together, making it harder to move.

        Slyly, Raikou says, "I'm sorry, senpai. I still didn't hear you."

        He takes a sick pleasure in the frustrated growl that drips from Yukimi's mouth, but he especially likes the bark, "Fine! Fucking fine -- just finish it already!"

        "Oh," says Raikou, his voice as nonchalant as he could make it, because it was hard to pretend to be nonchalant when you were feeling that smug. "You don't like it? I can stop."

        "Not when you stop! Shit, don't stop yet-"

        He found it strange how the way something like that from Yukimi made his spine tingle, pleased by the sound of pleading this person most likely hadn't let anyone else hear because no one else would have put him in a situation like this. (Who would want to?)

        He noted with interest that must have been why Yukimi slowed down at the most inopportune times, trying to make him beg and whimper like a wounded dog.

        So they were similar in that fashion. He, too, liked hearing his own name.

        Ah, then Yukimi was something like a sadomasochist.

        "Hmmmm... okay," he allowed. He didn't say anything else.

        The silence was full.

 

 

 

 

His warning was subtle, but Raikou reead the signs in the body and the jerking of the hips -- how Yukimi pushed him down -- and it gave it away.

        When he finishes, it isn't in Raikou's mouth, because that abandoned him at the moment and turned the shaft toward the direction of Yukimi's own stomach. The feeling is hot and comes as a shock to Yukimi, who didn't expect to find himself spilling on his own skin. He gasps and breathes, "Haaaa.... haaaaa.... fuck," and makes a few soft sounds while Raikou assists, stroking the length in his hand until all is done.

        Yukimi's head hits the back of the headrest before he moves his head and looks down at Raikou, about to open his mouth and say something.

        Raikou was waiting for it. He squeezes the shaft and pulls up, forcing the last bead of white fluid out, licking it away.

        Yukimi is mute. The voice confines itself in his throat, unable to move as he stares down. His heart is in his throat when he sees Raikou has kept his tongue out and leans toward his body, following the trail of white with his tongue, catching the places where it had spilled and not leaving a trace of it against the skin.

        In it he can taste sex and sweat mingled together. It isn't the best taste and he won't seek it again without good reason, but he is no stranger to sacrifice.

        He closes his eyes and sucks the skin until there's no fluid left.

        Although he isn't quick to embarrass, Yukimi's cheeks flush and his eyelashes lower, still breathing heavily.

        Maybe for that minute, Yukimi loved him.

        The feeling goes away when he sputters, "Uh... that..." and can't get any further.

        Raikou takes Yukimi's hand, placing the index finger in his mouth, sucking on the skin to remove the aftertaste. All the while, he looks up -- his own face devoid of any extraordinary colour except the colour of being alive.

        Yukimi manages, "Uh.... I didn't think.... you were like that."

        "Oh," replies Raikou once finished tasting skin. "I'm not," he assures, putting everything back in its proper place except the belt, which remained on the floor, and the pants -- which remained unzipped.

        "Huh...." answers Yukimi, too dazed for a real answer.

        Was this a fantasy? It isn't right if it was. Why would-

        Raikou smiles and stands. Softly, he offers, "It seemed like something you would like."

        Yukimi says nothing. He closes his eyes and concentrates on breathing, already having forgotten Raikou tricked him into buying things for him.

        Curiously, Raikou asks, "Do you trust me yet?"

        He doesn't hesitate. "Hell no."

        "Why not? Nothing happened this time, did it? And you liked it..."

        "You're waiting for me to not suspect you, that's why."

        "You need to trust people more, senpai."

        "Yeah... maybe, but not people like you."

        Over the course of two months, three more encounters happen without incident.

        On the fourth and final one, Raikou finally bites him.


End file.
